tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46146821064376557882024-03-05T15:10:01.613-05:00Scale InvariantFollow the adventures of an American finding her way in Hamburg with little German-language skill and a great sense of humorMJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-853614502889490102020-09-23T07:21:00.000-04:002020-09-23T07:21:07.835-04:00Justice Served!<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #0b5394; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;">Here's the November 3 ballot for my corner of Brooklyn. As you see, I have voted.</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnJfdXgnkGdVRCNnVKSe1OiR3JwfY0olspPMm5f_rRAMoWlRbijGpfUPYvMAE7ZzgMvgW5BLx2HBs4x46Xf-mHXhyphenhyphenqIzNNUMUKrPe9AXDsELUH2qOg3MGkcpN32UAaDOPkNHQ7a6Wx0U/s2048/Scanned+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnJfdXgnkGdVRCNnVKSe1OiR3JwfY0olspPMm5f_rRAMoWlRbijGpfUPYvMAE7ZzgMvgW5BLx2HBs4x46Xf-mHXhyphenhyphenqIzNNUMUKrPe9AXDsELUH2qOg3MGkcpN32UAaDOPkNHQ7a6Wx0U/s2048/Scanned+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLf1XLulsL-tQANvTmEdsWgqZ4mpSlmVQiHulqrf4dDLlpkOW3qHY8ciO2sEGp8HZn1mnFJ2_LpgAhnOz28ygG-y3ohyphenhyphenjvk52PwVCKfhAL4Spxqhk8FJE34vsJFehG78p_GFodvzrSI8/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1239" height="1169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLf1XLulsL-tQANvTmEdsWgqZ4mpSlmVQiHulqrf4dDLlpkOW3qHY8ciO2sEGp8HZn1mnFJ2_LpgAhnOz28ygG-y3ohyphenhyphenjvk52PwVCKfhAL4Spxqhk8FJE34vsJFehG78p_GFodvzrSI8/w733-h1169/image.jpeg" width="733" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">Now I have to cobble together the <i>envelopeS</i>. Yes, there are multiple envelopes.</span></span><div><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(11, 83, 148);"><br /></span></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">On one envelope I swear that I officially voted.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">This is put in a traditional envelope that is mailed to the Kings County Board of Elections.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">With 40 days for travel, my ballot should overcome any United States Postal Service slowdown.</span><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRujIdlw-m-bjAaiPJ7WZ9HzvO4AhbTdXU5x970J1gD_u9L4VZg3XK5-BfaJ7NZTv1I7VebOUtoXINaWXR_vl0jsL7KUCBXa3DdXEl44z6ZQtuFj14Z-LdNczj6b0ZmiTVG7JBcwN4HbQ/s2048/Scanned+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRujIdlw-m-bjAaiPJ7WZ9HzvO4AhbTdXU5x970J1gD_u9L4VZg3XK5-BfaJ7NZTv1I7VebOUtoXINaWXR_vl0jsL7KUCBXa3DdXEl44z6ZQtuFj14Z-LdNczj6b0ZmiTVG7JBcwN4HbQ/s2048/Scanned+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgir6V7X38iDqMIhZtjq-g4foEOHr2NRcEHlAFuhRPd11-UV56cuS9tBLT7kibqpxj5BPlvTOfbqp_23VpmXbDb8mL7Z03RFlCc5ES4IoECtcs1X31_90Q8Oc3tNVsuUeteDr4wXRhEca8/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"></div></div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div></div>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-50343117603788494422018-05-26T13:18:00.000-04:002018-05-26T13:18:02.663-04:00Privacy and the Roads More TraveledOn Friday, May 25, 2018, some new privacy rules from the European Union went into effect. The last few days have been an unnecessary but mostly fun walk down memory. Every business that I have ever had contact with has sent me an email letting me there are privacy rules from thr European Union going into effect on Friday, May 25, 2018. Deleting emails brought to mind a winery visit near Barcelona, several trips home on my favorite airline, unfulfilled to stay at a luxury hotel, interesting freelance writing assignments, cool outfits, restaurant searches in Amsterdam and other misadventures and adventures.<br />
<br />
ViaGogo, Simon & Schuster UK, Avery office products, Lookout Mobile Security, Wyndham Rewards, Alibris, VapoShop [that was a gift for a friend, I swear], Elbarri winery, Side Design Hotel Hamburg, Kempenski Hotels, H & M, Smiley’s Pizza, Aegean Airlines, Eurowings, Ebay, Subway, Citti Park, Die Insel Hamburg, AXS, Foodora, Quandoo [a Dutch version of OpenTable], Segura Viudas, Discovery hotel alliance, Transport for London, Scandic Hotels, Handesblatt Global, Mama Mae’s Cupcake Club [I don’t think I have ever been a member of this club. I do like knowing a club like this exists.], British Airways, Ritz-Carlton, Little Brown Book Group, and Only Connect thank you for the heads up. There are several companies I have not heard from. Should I be relieved, worried or angry that Amazon hasn’t said a peep to me about its privacy policy?<br />
<br />
I am definitely upset about my inability to access a few American websites that a part of my daily diet.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdx7l4d4WO3xYRhF0sAvG0F_l008SassXuLx1PYEs8i_fFDZyM1C2QW82RGjQCq_GaQGHmSN4g8oMK09KoougnMLRflMo31zetMFwPJscjc2dxzissfD7XTdbClM0OdY5uqk-ZdBZqWLE/s1600/chi.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdx7l4d4WO3xYRhF0sAvG0F_l008SassXuLx1PYEs8i_fFDZyM1C2QW82RGjQCq_GaQGHmSN4g8oMK09KoougnMLRflMo31zetMFwPJscjc2dxzissfD7XTdbClM0OdY5uqk-ZdBZqWLE/s640/chi.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAE-IOwZF3_dpwq2MoMNUzSOw2nNg2FyxUnSWUBEjNgz2pkcQGuLLGb3BRxY74meGjGRUqCLYjExCx4YZRSPyavND-FpJy5kyQ0s5Ih4Z72lPhLh9mCxm4YQuZIBH53fW30-kRR6dJ_o/s1600/lat.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAE-IOwZF3_dpwq2MoMNUzSOw2nNg2FyxUnSWUBEjNgz2pkcQGuLLGb3BRxY74meGjGRUqCLYjExCx4YZRSPyavND-FpJy5kyQ0s5Ih4Z72lPhLh9mCxm4YQuZIBH53fW30-kRR6dJ_o/s640/lat.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Because they are "engaged," I have hope, they will return soon. Until then, I still have New York Times.<br />
<br />MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-38769760730748170302016-10-18T08:54:00.000-04:002016-10-18T09:03:27.302-04:00R-O-C-K in the Deutschland<span style="font-size: large;">Last night, I went to my fifth concert in Germany and I am about to give up. I lived in New York for almost nine years and I never came close to a concert. Eight million people fighting for one seat. The odds were not in my favor. The odds are in my favor in Germany but it almost doesn't matter because the experience is not as great as it was in Philadelphia, the site of my birth and where I have spent most of my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I remember the first time I went to a concert alone. I had no trepidation because I knew I would be surrounded by the love of one group. I was right. I danced and laughed and screamed and high fives strangers who were my best friends for three hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was surprised that when I went to my first concert in Germany, people around me sat through most of Madonna's MDNA concert. Meanwhile, I was dancing through most of the opening act, Martin Solveig.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The same thing happened when I saw U2 and Beyonce.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS7rJJbT7MNM7BwJIGDRCR2VjBe4sqoW-6ciG_lRry49xRMhwLwzdqcnzeE-TINFd6XhtmawF5lGMc7-ISQPJA1yGE4KeU0oD7nVu-nwgVArHnCAD2Jw3ulJEkLJZQXRDQAywblPrDHI/s1600/IMG_20161017_214416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCS7rJJbT7MNM7BwJIGDRCR2VjBe4sqoW-6ciG_lRry49xRMhwLwzdqcnzeE-TINFd6XhtmawF5lGMc7-ISQPJA1yGE4KeU0oD7nVu-nwgVArHnCAD2Jw3ulJEkLJZQXRDQAywblPrDHI/s640/IMG_20161017_214416.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Smith & Co. at Hamburg's Barclaycard Arena</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Last night, I had amazing seats to see The Cure. By now, I have adjusted my expectations. I have enough energy for myself. I don't need anything from my fellow concertgoers. However, I was shocked about how low the crowd could go. At my first concert in Hamburg [I saw Madonna twice in Berlin and U2 in Berlin; Beyonce slayed Frankfurt.], I was told several times to SIT DOWN.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Unfortunately, my usual partner in crime was too sick to come, so I went alone. Fortunately, I had the area around two seats to dance around.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The first man asked me to sit and I said no. My answer shocked him and he asked me again. Again, I said, "Nein." He looked at me for about ten seconds and then walked away. Next up was some 19-year-old-looking girl nicely told me to sit down. When I replied in the negative, she asked me why. I said nothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I was sitting on the aisle. In the middle of the concert, some guy started walking toward me. I wasn't sure why. He had crutches in his hand and passed them over my legs and then he knocked me out of the way. I guess he decided to sit in someone else's seat; not my Immortal Beloved's unused seat. He put down his crutches and immediately started videotaping or photographing the concert. Obviously, I was sitting when he trespassed. An emotional ballad was moving through the air. When one of My Songs came on, I started dancing. This interloper demanded that I sit down. I said no. He demanded again. Again, I said, "Nein." He said, "Doch." I said, "Nein."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It is ridiculous that people think their wish is my command. It is a concert, not a library. This Philadelphian wanted someone to push the idea but no one did. If I could have knocked one person down, then there wouldn't be anymore requests. Unfortunately, that didn't happen and the photographer demanded that I sit down several more times.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I think I may have to see my next concerts in Spain or Italy, one of the more boisterous countries.</span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-22030514325600382852016-09-27T03:39:00.000-04:002016-09-27T03:39:03.565-04:00Ready, Set, Hillary!<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">The recently-ended presidential debate has motivated me.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKXyDs4nP8kDA_07IK07DnJpzkrqCEwzXggvuNy4lZ1AIjvppVHZ1sz7dKyidS_fqqIuJwpjp9lClO1lR0SjAvJsgI1YKQHKI0Kk1n0xsz15KMVUXKR53JqhW4V2hp3AYHbWDt0StLIo/s1600/ballot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKXyDs4nP8kDA_07IK07DnJpzkrqCEwzXggvuNy4lZ1AIjvppVHZ1sz7dKyidS_fqqIuJwpjp9lClO1lR0SjAvJsgI1YKQHKI0Kk1n0xsz15KMVUXKR53JqhW4V2hp3AYHbWDt0StLIo/s640/ballot.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">For once, I am NOT voting at the very last second. Thank you, Donald J. Trump [a bit of credit should go to an inept Lester Holt].</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-63919223657572559192016-06-17T06:39:00.000-04:002016-06-17T06:39:10.945-04:00One Reason America is Awesome<span style="font-size: x-large;">After a week of bemoaning another act of senseless violence, I decided to focus on something that makes America great.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzTnMMGLnEvY_SZ-C9OuIUdBMs2LkgoJ7S0jXQj-QLvs0-NxPd0LmxaOb3D9Z88GTC4nBSoh7NWPYMjmG736fmm6odsA_n4-I6xHaQ0Dmsnt9U9yuUrazCPt-oalDj3FwqArx89oVOCE/s1600/pizza.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzTnMMGLnEvY_SZ-C9OuIUdBMs2LkgoJ7S0jXQj-QLvs0-NxPd0LmxaOb3D9Z88GTC4nBSoh7NWPYMjmG736fmm6odsA_n4-I6xHaQ0Dmsnt9U9yuUrazCPt-oalDj3FwqArx89oVOCE/s640/pizza.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">When I was home in March, I was bombarded by commercials for pizza wrapped in bacon. I was appalled and attracted at the same time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I truly believe that everything can be improved with bacon, butter or cheese. I am also aware that processed meat flung on top of cheese that is melted onto bread that is swathed in bacon is scary unhealthy. I also had a strong suspicion that combination would taste awesome.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Because I kept seeing the commercials, I kept talking about this new menu option. My mother listened to my complaints and heard desire.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">When my mother was getting me ghetto Chinese food (so that a major food wish would come true), she stopped off at the pizza place two doors down from the Chinese restaurant. She forced me to encounter my frenemy -- bacon-wrapped pizza. That is why mothers are so great. They help you fulfill your dreams.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The pizza was as delicious as I thought it would be. It was only the beginning of a feast. It is best to eat pizza first because heat helps hold all of the amazingness together. I followed that gastronomic majesty with vegetable egg foo young. That was one of the best meals that I have ever had. I mean that in all sincerity.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You can't get this combination of fat, salt and flavor in Deutschland. That is probably a good thing.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
</div>
<br />
<br />MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-4225630625514559132015-07-23T14:03:00.001-04:002015-07-23T14:03:33.033-04:00Looking Back<span style="font-size: x-large;">America leads the world . . . in most areas of popular culture. The only place Europe head of the good ole US of A is electronic music. That would be a plus if I was an EDM fan.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I am a fan of television. Germany has terrible television. Germany has finally beat America to one thing -- Wayward Pines.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Wayward Pines is a mediocre science fiction limited-edition series broadcast of Fox. For some reason, Wayward Pines is broadcast at 9 p.m. in Germany on Thursdays and 9 p.m. on Thursdays in the United States. Through the miracle of the earth rotation, Germany is ahead of the United States. I have been bored by the antics of a this mysterious town six hours earlier than my American brethren.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONj7bSKyakoziA-uls_iU6NvcgIXvk9AwHnNc72yDJM0x0OEKQTf-8QBwzjWjSr6MOXM_q35kNf9mdncEUivy6LBqTBuL2z1pOtUKBn6fPDXvcEgsCM3rxWejrlhEzE84ShkwUvp1KXs/s1600/Wayward.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhONj7bSKyakoziA-uls_iU6NvcgIXvk9AwHnNc72yDJM0x0OEKQTf-8QBwzjWjSr6MOXM_q35kNf9mdncEUivy6LBqTBuL2z1pOtUKBn6fPDXvcEgsCM3rxWejrlhEzE84ShkwUvp1KXs/s640/Wayward.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courtesy of Fox Broadcasting<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Tonight is the last episode. My reign is about to end. I am back to being behind.</span></div>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-37998904406759949162014-10-26T11:55:00.001-04:002014-10-27T18:21:56.137-04:00Need to Know Basis<span style="font-size: x-large;">I, like the overwhelming number of Americans, would like to think that the health care systems in every other country stinks. Well, people who have lived in another country know that is not true.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I've just finished a stint in a renowned hospital in Kiel, Germany. The "health" part was excellent but the "care" part was a hot mess.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">My eye doctor sent me to the emergency room for neurology patients. [Yes, that's a thing here. A ER for every problem and a neurology ER or problems specific to the nervous system. See, the U.S. doesn't have everything.]. She sent me there because I couldn't get an appointment for tests for a suspected problem for three months. One point for the United States.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Before I went, she told me that there would be a long wait. Cool. I checked my schedule and picked Thursday, October 16. I went in around</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">3 p.m. My work day was done and I assumed that all the morning rush hour problems would be cleared out and the after-work emergencies would not have occurred by then. I happily showed up with my iPad stocked with magazines and television shows. I was so wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Like everything in Germany, there was poor signage. It took me a while to find the <i>Neurozentrum Notfall</i>. When I got there, there was no one and no sign telling me what to do. After five minutes, I went to the only open room and asked if I was in the right place. There, someone told me to stand against the wall and someone would help me. That made no sense, so I just sat down. Around 4, I snagged someone rushing by in blue scrubs and asked if I was at the right place. She said I was and took a DVD that held an image of the inside of my skull and some forms from my eye doctor and radiologist. About an hour later, she returned the disc to me. That would be the last time I would speak to someone officially for hours. Asmus came to keep me company around 6:30. I was getting hungry, so I was happy to see him because he brought some nuts and grapes and water.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">My beloved is so laidback all the time, so it was shocking to discover that he cannot wait patiently. His irritation led to my irritation. I timidly went to the first room I visited to ask where I was in line. Two women barked at me that someone would be with me in a minute. I knew that couldn't be true. About an hour later, Asmus asked if we should go home and come back in a few hours and a woman told us they have no idea when something may happen but we shouldn't dare leave the ER.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCbzTwzsU3oOGYHYRKD_0ZZ22YX5jYQeNtj6yPshaknG08PdgBYOufOHW3Zyw8UDMxM-HRfOfGF1qzl56IAOfRwdQhxdgkxsnz9wqPOAJBteIPJUgKxgivcE5n0M1IUtO75JhMh0VvOI/s1600/flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCbzTwzsU3oOGYHYRKD_0ZZ22YX5jYQeNtj6yPshaknG08PdgBYOufOHW3Zyw8UDMxM-HRfOfGF1qzl56IAOfRwdQhxdgkxsnz9wqPOAJBteIPJUgKxgivcE5n0M1IUtO75JhMh0VvOI/s1600/flower.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The force that kept from punching a hole in a wall from a delicate combination of frustration, boredom and disgust.<br />
Thank you, Cecilia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After a while, we gave up and decided to leave but someone somewhere had the documents that I had brought with me and I needed them back. When we went to get them, we got a bunch of apologies from the new shift and were told that there were only two people in front of us. We waited. Around 11, a doctor apologized and said we would be seen in about 15 minutes. At midnight, we were taken back to see a doctor.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nine hours after I entered the ER, my reflexes were tested, I was asked the same questions that were answered on my documents and I was strongly urged to check in to the hospital.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I took the advice. With only my iPad for protection, I entered a hospital at 1 a.m. In a daze, I hurriedly made a list of things for my husband to bring me. He rushed home and rushed back.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The lack of information I experienced at the ER was not an anomaly. Like the rest of this nation, the hospital did not give up information without your specifically asking for it. Every day was an adventure because I didn't know what was planned for me each day. I quickly learned that my alarm clock was my blood pressure check at </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">7 a.m. by someone wearing white scrubs. I didn't know anyone's name but I learned the people taking my blood pressure were nurses. I eventually learned that my pressure was checked at 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. What happened between then was a surprise. One day, on Monday, nothing happened until 3:30 in the afternoon.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">At that time, I was wheeled down for a lumbar puncture. A man rushed into the room and said there was a mistake. "We" [I was not included in this "we." "We" were some group of doctors.] had decided to do a special MRI, then do the test and then do another MRI; this way we can compare images, he explained. He had run up stairs to try to stop them from bringing me down. I wondered why he didn't use a phone but didn't ask this. I was wheeled into the hallway, while they found someone to wheel me back upstairs to my room. This meant that I would be in the hospital an extra day. This also meant that I was going to break my hospital stay record of five days. I was not happy about my days of bad sleep and boredom but I was accepted it. While I was thinking of all the things I would need to do to accommodate this extended stay, the same doctor came out to me and said, "We" had been talking and decided because of my symptoms, there was no need for comparison. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">I hadn't had any symptoms; my eye doctor had found a problem that she wanted investigated.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> I didn't question this new decision.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The assumption was now there was a problem. One minute, I needed two MRIs and a test. The next, all of that was unnecessary. This all should have been very confusing but it wasn't because after three days in the hospital, I had become immune to expecting courtesy, logic and scheduling.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">After four days in the hospital, no one told me when visiting hours were, how I got television and telephone service, if there was a lounge, and who my nurses and doctors were. Luckily, Cecilia, a friend who worked in the hospital, told me what she knew.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I was cool with not knowing. On Tuesday, I was sent to the ophthalmologist right before lunch. Of course, I didn't know I was going to the eye doctor and I didn't know what for. A gruff man came to my door and I left with him. Shockingly, he was not medical personnel. He was a taxi driver. I was driven to a different building on the hospital campus. I didn't know that was coming. That was an annoying surprise. I missed my lunch and didn't bring a jacket to the cold four-and-a-half-hour wait and cursed my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">When I returned to my room, I pressed the call button because there was no one at the nurses station. I asked her what was happening to me next. She politely said, I don't know.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The care was great. There a lumbar puncture attempt Friday afternoon. It went so badly that I was crying and screaming during the whole thing. One of the doctors performing the procedure rubbed my back and said, I'm sorry, over and over again. That lumbar puncture attempt failed. During the session on Monday, it failed twice and succeeded once. Those failures went as badly as the first. Those failures were also accompanied by crying, screaming, soothing and back rubs. Comforting from people in scrubs went way beyond the call of duty. I was embarrassed and very grateful for that.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">On Monday, I was allowed to leave my room and give them my cell phone number. I would be called if anyone wanted to poke me or question me. I was allowed to go outside. I used this freedom to connect to a hot spot and, thus, the world. [Since Thursday afternoon, I had no newspaper, no television and no radio. That is not completely true. "They" wanted me to stay in the hospital all weekend. I asked for a furlough and I was given an <i>urlaub</i> [vacation]. I left my hospital room Saturday morning and returned to it 7:58 p.m. Sunday night -- two minutes earlier than my deadline.] I was sitting on a park bench outside the hospital on Monday and Tuesday, when I was called in for tests. I appreciate not being cooped in my box all the time. That was caring of the staff.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-47005577075512772502014-10-26T10:06:00.000-04:002014-10-26T10:06:23.795-04:00Zero Forks<span style="font-size: large;">I would not consider myself a foodie, but the images below do you depict the most unnerving things that had ever been put before me as vehicles for nutrition and enjoyment. Perhaps that's it! As I typed that sentence, I realized, the food may have only been for nutrition. To heck with enjoyment. If that is the case, then The mission was accomplished.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB9MJmh5N1OUdjSjEM0zMLrJS-gqEh1WuYIoK95bRn2E11_6mlK0kQSikmNYqNAYr5KusDhGTxIhH1s1wTk3_SeH1H0WlA5ClcBDX_BZjb6O657yHP693I3O2ahLhKSfcJAiBQs3RdZlM/s1600/Breakfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB9MJmh5N1OUdjSjEM0zMLrJS-gqEh1WuYIoK95bRn2E11_6mlK0kQSikmNYqNAYr5KusDhGTxIhH1s1wTk3_SeH1H0WlA5ClcBDX_BZjb6O657yHP693I3O2ahLhKSfcJAiBQs3RdZlM/s1600/Breakfast.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is breakfast. Yum!<br />It was a traditional German breakfast -- bread with deli meat and/or cheese and yogurt. This was supposed to break the fast from the previous evening's dinner. That was one piece of mortadella with either pistachio bits or mushroom bits. I couldn't tell, so I didn't eat it. The idea of processed laced with nuts gives me the willies.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7-l0l2VeNk2SkhDw7veFAUM6tyjXEztG9k_BoRJ_F3Sm0wAPoY6gwsxG9Z41sLSXnY13-QV-yOdSZXmL5GZ6qq0VUrIOcOnawC62vxXhOyutzqJoFmvy3lHapp-LD6DGGWN809prBu0/s1600/Dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7-l0l2VeNk2SkhDw7veFAUM6tyjXEztG9k_BoRJ_F3Sm0wAPoY6gwsxG9Z41sLSXnY13-QV-yOdSZXmL5GZ6qq0VUrIOcOnawC62vxXhOyutzqJoFmvy3lHapp-LD6DGGWN809prBu0/s1600/Dinner.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This ws dinner. Look familiar? This is what an older German might eat for dinner. Of course, there was bread on the plate to the left. I could recognize cheese on the plate to the right but that was all. I had even nibbled on one of the pieces of meat, but I still couldn't tell what it was. The dish in the center holds BEETS.<br />BEETS. Ugh. Why beets? No one likes beets. There must have been a sale on the root.<br />For dessert, yes, that was, yogurt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggszTri-azEL5IxX66rkPmV3w2GEmbPGe-V1g_SafpLOhhlqIkcvWiWgjaFi-6L8rpgqQiCoEocog-yYIr13WWCufX-MwY4s34ZXwMlCcZ6b8RRfyRWmTjFn9iQooJ3eZDCkhuP2RgvmE/s1600/Lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggszTri-azEL5IxX66rkPmV3w2GEmbPGe-V1g_SafpLOhhlqIkcvWiWgjaFi-6L8rpgqQiCoEocog-yYIr13WWCufX-MwY4s34ZXwMlCcZ6b8RRfyRWmTjFn9iQooJ3eZDCkhuP2RgvmE/s1600/Lunch.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was lunch. As it turns out, the big meal of the day. If I hadn't had the menu, I wouldn't have even known what it was. After I tried it, I wasn't even sure what it was. This is a picture of roasted chicken covered in hollandaise sauce served with mashed potatoes. The chicken deflated when I dug into it with my fork and so did my heart.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">This was not cafeteria food but hospital food. My expectations were low but not this low.</span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-5214876599233171762014-03-26T05:30:00.002-04:002014-03-26T05:30:21.419-04:00Progress?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzNci8N4Jl3gPEiHzMpaLPB6ARkyxiIM0r9WuVsRcC8fWj5fzVy74cJJLLp_bSyWzpbmHHQ2xnCK4sycil9cPs7Kqi2zEttEuIjEp5znaDxpW4Q9_WeYp-dVCuJpam5EUs64LKXFTMOc/s1600/Pizza+Machine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzNci8N4Jl3gPEiHzMpaLPB6ARkyxiIM0r9WuVsRcC8fWj5fzVy74cJJLLp_bSyWzpbmHHQ2xnCK4sycil9cPs7Kqi2zEttEuIjEp5znaDxpW4Q9_WeYp-dVCuJpam5EUs64LKXFTMOc/s1600/Pizza+Machine.jpg" height="550" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I cannot decide if this is a sign of the apocalypse or the most amazing thing ever invented.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">This machine recently arrived at a gas station near our home in Kiel, Germany. You put in 4.50 euros, wait three minutes and you get a piping hot pizza. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It even takes debit cards.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">If the outside of the machine can be believed, the pizza is made from the freshest tomatoes, robust basil and delectable mozzarella.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">In a perfect world, I would have one in my living room or never see it again. I cannot decide.</span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-83558647854174375712014-01-26T20:21:00.002-05:002014-01-26T20:21:49.294-05:00Winter, where ya been?<span style="font-size: large;">Winter finally came to Kiel last Wednesday, it came out of nowhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The birds were even caught off guard.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGdSu4sERhugx0u4iGfi5X9s7uPjYc-y7qziVrpWbBUJihUZcWE6IB8VOQfALK_l_L-prRQmUoyj4rAXcIMkCFDdQ18o9cUG3zZAWWKKQL-w9UQEXZo_h26F_BVKM7xHU8FzuGzXcaSk/s1600/bird+alone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGdSu4sERhugx0u4iGfi5X9s7uPjYc-y7qziVrpWbBUJihUZcWE6IB8VOQfALK_l_L-prRQmUoyj4rAXcIMkCFDdQ18o9cUG3zZAWWKKQL-w9UQEXZo_h26F_BVKM7xHU8FzuGzXcaSk/s1600/bird+alone.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4614682106437655788" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4614682106437655788" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;">I finally found something that people in Kiel cannot complain about him – cold weather. All year long, you hear whining about the near-constant rain and seemingly permanent gray skies. Mysteriously, I haven't heard one unkind word about the 12° weather and the 3 inches of snow.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I love winter!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwh51vTNcyYaztHjnuC1Wsi04rt6IG9Y3cIrQvwt5b6XxhK8o5j7ZNBn30U79PaHvinnTYxqAaaEgCvLAzKHew95sAun6IhvVFOFPwHOaV_5HEmZBpe-6l3ylTQcvQxMhnFuu6R73LS74/s1600/park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwh51vTNcyYaztHjnuC1Wsi04rt6IG9Y3cIrQvwt5b6XxhK8o5j7ZNBn30U79PaHvinnTYxqAaaEgCvLAzKHew95sAun6IhvVFOFPwHOaV_5HEmZBpe-6l3ylTQcvQxMhnFuu6R73LS74/s1600/park.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The saddest bird in the world.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-32170461026103549162013-11-26T12:21:00.001-05:002013-11-26T12:21:10.771-05:00<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Time is slipping away from me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It feels like my March birthday was last week. However, Yesterday was the first day of the Christmas Market in Kiel.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I kicked off the season with baked ham in a brown sauce served over penne. That was chased with apple cider with cinnamon and calavados.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It was cold, so the first meal was short but oh so sweet.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Prost!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><img src="webkit-fake-url://D1A82C7A-B1B3-4C26-9616-2921838DDA60/imagejpeg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-89738552417582751282013-08-30T03:50:00.002-04:002013-08-30T04:07:41.916-04:00Shopping Queen<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Germans do many things well -- create amazing cars, compose grand operas and craft good beer. Produce interesting television is not a member of that club.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I have heard stories of immigrants to the United States say they perfected their English by watching television. I tried to emulate that here. Unfortunately, about 80% of prime time television is German-dubbed versions of American crime shows. I am not a fan of CSI in America, so I sure ain't watching it when the lips don't match the words. I gave up on German television a long time ago.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Northern Europeans don't experience much crime, so they search it out in books, films and television shows. Most of the television shows here are people solving some murder. The most popular television show here is Tatort [The Scene of the Crime]. This has been running since 1970. It follows detectives in different German cities find the killer. A few months ago, I tuned in to see the show that was based in my home, Kiel.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It is for this reason that I ended my brief hiatus from my new pet peeve, Shopping Queen. This week, Shopping Queen is taking place in Kiel, the capital of the northernmost state in Germany. Kiel is famous for sailing. In my opinion, Kiel is the city that fashion forgot. That is unfortunate because Shopping Queen is a show about fashion.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1wkL4AuTWUnk4jTKUUU3B1EkEp-yNLMMQAXKAQy_0CFS5We9qvJ1nttRwbja6K82dJxys0Vi3ks-JVRfGdcXU6VpeghwUzhrH5o3BH9N8QWmnOpxqHdOO1fXl4FsGmP50thWDCipG60/s1600/shopping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO1wkL4AuTWUnk4jTKUUU3B1EkEp-yNLMMQAXKAQy_0CFS5We9qvJ1nttRwbja6K82dJxys0Vi3ks-JVRfGdcXU6VpeghwUzhrH5o3BH9N8QWmnOpxqHdOO1fXl4FsGmP50thWDCipG60/s640/shopping.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cast of Shopping Queen: Kiel. Source: Kieler Nachrichten</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Shopping Queen is a friendly competitive reality show. Five women are given a theme, 500 euros and four hours. They must create an outfit, get their hair or makeup done and be accessorized. At first, I delighted in seeing the clothes, the frenzy, the different cities and people's houses [while one person shops, the four stay at the shopper's home]. But I quickly fell out of love. Because the average woman is focused on the inside and not the outside, the fashion sense is not so great. The people with fashion acumen were not understood by their competitors, so they got low scores. Those lost in the sauce got high scores. I was screaming at the television show, like my team was losing the Super Bowl. The only saving grace was the Mizrahi-level wit, Guido Maria Kretschmer. Guido is a couture designer [who appeared on Oxygen's The Face last spring]. He pops on screen and makes crazy commentary while watching footage of shopping. During the reveal on the catwalk, he gives thorough judgement. On the last day, he gives scores that are added to the scores of competitors.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Despite Guido, I stepped away. It was just too much. Okay, I watched two or three episodes on a boring Saturday but that was it for about six weeks. But I was back Monday because the show came to Kiel. I heard the show was taping here a few months ago. I was looking around for the Shopping Queen van and the accompanying chaos. I saw nothing. I watched the show and I see that my neighborhood is featured prominently in every episode! Kiel is a city of 270,000 people but all the cool things are in one place -- my 'hood.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This week, the goal is to create the perfect bridesmaid look. I think Christina, the woman in the brown dress, is going to win. You can see all five shows at:</span></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.voxnow.de/shopping-queen/gruppe-kiel-tag-3-christina.php?container_id=134793&player=1&season=2">http://www.voxnow.de/shopping-queen/gruppe-kiel-tag-3-christina.php?container_id=134793&player=1&season=2</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-47961233030221481732013-08-14T08:38:00.000-04:002013-08-14T08:38:33.302-04:00Adventures in Sitting Around the House<span style="font-size: large;">Last year, I fulfilled a dream of visiting Ghana. Ever since I saw the normally-cantankerous Anthony Bourdain happily traipse through this equatorial nation, I knew I had to go to there. As I researched the young nation, I quickly realized that this will not be a relaxing trip. Right before I left for Africa, I decided that I was going to make the best of what awaits me. I was going to enjoy Ghana for what it has, not what it doesn't have. Basically, I have two settings -- satisfied or miserable. I decided to find a few places between these two poles. Because of that I had a great time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I took this same approach to my rehab from my sprained foot. I was not supposed to do a lot of walking, so in Kiel there are not a lot of options for entertainment. Because of my medical limitations, I had to cancel my two-week vacation. Never mind that, I just decided to find the silver lining. Some days it was harder than others.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One of the good things about Germany is that you own your table at a reservation for as long as you want it. There is no pressure to turn over a table. This is true even on Friday and Saturday nights. I took advantage of this German custom most of the summer. The hardest time of the day for me was the afternoon. At lunchtime, I hopped in a cab and burned up three hours a day at cafes that I never visited before and old favorites. Armed with my iPad, I had some amazing afternoons at <a href="http://www.lueneburghaus.com/index.php?EPquery=restaurant_bistro#start">Lüneburg Haus</a>, <a href="http://www.annrestaurant.de/ann.html">Ann</a> restaurant, <a href="http://www.non-solo-pane-kiel.de/">Non Solo Pane</a>, <a href="http://www.nil-kiel.de/">Nil</a>, <a href="http://www.werkstattcafe-kiel.de/">Werkstatt Cafe</a>, <a href="http://www.negresco.de/">Negresco</a> and Hemingway.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV092lhQ4TUysS9TnfDZ_jDKvXG9R8tKgc38427hH2GPXdKL5gbR1LnZLaIUFdjoHe1l2XLoRuwZH-sDbf5neLC1QVYocZia75D6OkRdN1ISuO4Z4ILrQUbsDC0QYn_hDYRxEQv0HNLlA/s1600/sauce.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV092lhQ4TUysS9TnfDZ_jDKvXG9R8tKgc38427hH2GPXdKL5gbR1LnZLaIUFdjoHe1l2XLoRuwZH-sDbf5neLC1QVYocZia75D6OkRdN1ISuO4Z4ILrQUbsDC0QYn_hDYRxEQv0HNLlA/s400/sauce.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dessert of vanilla pudding with chocolate sauce from Lüneburg Haus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was nice to be out of the house and enjoy good food.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If I could wave a magic wand, I would make myself permanently disabled. With the sight of me on crutches or my bandage, normally self-centered Kielers got out of my way, held doors for me, and stopped slipping between me and the small spaces between walls and blocking entire walkways. Even cab drivers were helpful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Last Thursday, I got the doctor's approval to skip the bandage and I am a bit sad for the loss of common courtesy but I was happy to be able to wear my new shoes.</span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-64887753450819536642013-07-16T19:34:00.003-04:002013-07-16T19:34:34.022-04:00Damn you, Kiel Week!<span style="font-size: large;">It has been a cold summer here in northern Germany. Until July, we lived in the 50s. We finally settled into the 70s around the Fourth of July. At night, it gets cold.</span><div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was so cold and rainy that I could not drag myself to visit all of the Kiel Week festivities. I lived at the International Market. I ate from around the world and I was happy. However, I didn't make it to the bay, or Kiel Linie. This is the site of my beloved John's Burger Barn. In the midst of crepes, French Fries and fish sandwiches, there is an oasis of taste. This is the Burger crew's second year at the water and the third at Kiel Week. This year it stuck. They were so busy that I could not get the signature Monica Burger -- bacon cheeseburger.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I finally made it out there the penultimate day. It was bittersweet. It is great to be surrounded by friendly insanity and sad that it was all about the end.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">This year, John and Co. actually ran out of the burgers.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1LYdSR6SNSoe79VR6pdMmUxunCAz9pQqde0iuV7rtu73E8Rdl9sjOhbKxa1sWLlopCv4tmnnc1s9Xj0DDYe6hBNMo4f75E38ITlMqbORHvbkCJtEO46Et7JhEgRQTi-64ngt7lXLEKU/s1600/sold+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1LYdSR6SNSoe79VR6pdMmUxunCAz9pQqde0iuV7rtu73E8Rdl9sjOhbKxa1sWLlopCv4tmnnc1s9Xj0DDYe6hBNMo4f75E38ITlMqbORHvbkCJtEO46Et7JhEgRQTi-64ngt7lXLEKU/s400/sold+out.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sold out! This miracle happened about three hours before Kiel Week was offiicially over.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD7YjWmk67RmMrY9i7pga1m7aewA5UUrUsDFjYIRK_Y5ZS41p8iXCXeX-RfX22foeXGGzFUl-fCq2X21BjqPbrcapqxpzoCNwMHXYj6ZJfA4dKyl1Uxx7tlp5OIziQCyiwSEmLCqgNaE/s1600/last+one.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD7YjWmk67RmMrY9i7pga1m7aewA5UUrUsDFjYIRK_Y5ZS41p8iXCXeX-RfX22foeXGGzFUl-fCq2X21BjqPbrcapqxpzoCNwMHXYj6ZJfA4dKyl1Uxx7tlp5OIziQCyiwSEmLCqgNaE/s640/last+one.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last burger. It was ceremoniously dropped into the waters a few feet from the John's Burger Barn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I ended Kiel Week injured. I got an overly-aggressive Thai massage. Yes, I got a massage-related injury. The therapist stretched a ligament in my left foot. I bragged about how amazing Thai massage is for weeks before Kiel Week and during the event. However, that maneuver brought me down. The sprain is bad enough to have caused the cancellation of a trip to Poland and to Iceland.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I refuse to find a lesson in this misery.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoI-UBJiJjcobOxkIoY-J5zFrOHr6XFo5scG5ScFle_M9OQrFvXQ3PDxtM6QK0zWKQh01IXFgcgQxJJ9dEN4iZKh-G46n1A60WXmjUZbD46e-sxBWtztUaG4fFLBFLPCho6z2LBmd88wk/s1600/foot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoI-UBJiJjcobOxkIoY-J5zFrOHr6XFo5scG5ScFle_M9OQrFvXQ3PDxtM6QK0zWKQh01IXFgcgQxJJ9dEN4iZKh-G46n1A60WXmjUZbD46e-sxBWtztUaG4fFLBFLPCho6z2LBmd88wk/s320/foot.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /></div>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-16468115854455399902013-05-13T10:46:00.001-04:002013-07-16T19:14:26.662-04:00Why me?!?<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I am feeling a bit blue now.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfSQinlvC57ZL3O_5xXY6LfUg16AcwibG_AYWk7eS6YfP66TZDWujIeOZ2znmKaPf2cxXWMWvAAxKJR0WyAl0upjklcXy-p5ZR8Udou7qUaVVrOZgn2Bi-Emg2axewJEfxThYXSCVQYo/s1600/photo3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfSQinlvC57ZL3O_5xXY6LfUg16AcwibG_AYWk7eS6YfP66TZDWujIeOZ2znmKaPf2cxXWMWvAAxKJR0WyAl0upjklcXy-p5ZR8Udou7qUaVVrOZgn2Bi-Emg2axewJEfxThYXSCVQYo/s640/photo3.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I am sad because I just finished my box of Cream of Wheat. I brought two 28-ounce boxes of Cream of Wheat back with me when I home to Philadelphia last November. I can only carry so much stuff back and I am very stressed about what is suitcase worthy. Last year, I froze two blocks of <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/25/scrapple-pork-pennsylvania_n_3149645.html">scrapple</a> and two rolls of breakfast sausage with sage. Sadly, I finished the scrapple faster than I wanted to. It was just so good.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuecR1wjaifA7Bhw3QNjEpDkkW5w65BE9kKxKTgtIOeAo-6R3X4txP0DFqCFqzUzSFeE356T4cPzLNEJnN4QE_uXwunkTc3btwhpj4_pkYSe19aaJkBKEMa1eFzAFf66f7SwQMap_NH0o/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuecR1wjaifA7Bhw3QNjEpDkkW5w65BE9kKxKTgtIOeAo-6R3X4txP0DFqCFqzUzSFeE356T4cPzLNEJnN4QE_uXwunkTc3btwhpj4_pkYSe19aaJkBKEMa1eFzAFf66f7SwQMap_NH0o/s400/photo-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">As you</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> can see, I am almost out of the sausage. Two weeks ago, I had the last bowl of Cream of Wheat. That was the saddest bowl of breakfast cereal ever.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My brother-in-law and his family are going to California for three weeks. I asked them if I can give them a suitcase that they can fill with cereal, breakfast pastries and more sausage. Unfortunately, scrapple is a Pennsylvania thing, so they won't be able to find it on the west coast, where they are touring in July.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My mother offered to send some Cream of Wheat to me but we decided against it. Because of the weight, it would cost a thousand more times to mail it than the cost of the cereal itself. Asmus and I back in the US of A in October. I am bringing a suitcase just for food. Again, we won't be in Pennsylvania, so no scrapple. I will be back in the 215 in 2014. Perhaps, I will have a Scrapple Suitcase.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-85556049405834775072012-10-30T11:35:00.003-04:002012-10-30T11:35:53.154-04:00Vote . . . rocked!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">About a month I promised myself, I voted. [Damn you, procrastination.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I have done all I can do.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_OH9ti_3tg4Dqe4HCA364kYOfMGJZqrG_3bqwofYDungU2qvOIeuRjZZh1N9Csk4HTQaj8RtivvLW6yQqH3yDHNrJLaRYEOkNfafz76bDL03YXI-oyRJqG_MNgLxVSqxglmkgS5EZuY/s1600/i-voted-flag-copy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_OH9ti_3tg4Dqe4HCA364kYOfMGJZqrG_3bqwofYDungU2qvOIeuRjZZh1N9Csk4HTQaj8RtivvLW6yQqH3yDHNrJLaRYEOkNfafz76bDL03YXI-oyRJqG_MNgLxVSqxglmkgS5EZuY/s640/i-voted-flag-copy1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-15615965987159909202012-09-25T10:52:00.001-04:002012-09-25T10:52:55.887-04:00Rock the Vote<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I got an unexpected email last week. I received a note from the American government asking for my vote. I was excited and nervous. I am not 100% sure whom I will vote for. Now that I have the ballot I must start researching.</span><div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Here, for your pleasure, is a peek at the New York state ballot for Brooklyn [to be official: Kings county] that I just downloaded.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBX0vCzoKfsOCrkSai_6f2yfu020cxOZWC4dAccd22S-1BbRC3R53a1hX0n-hKK8_2GXeUY6mx-u6L2nLMW-LGf24eq7qMJq7ungz9df151mB8zK7AOyOTTJpm-HLQRDP4rplZvqiJVk/s1600/Ballot_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeBX0vCzoKfsOCrkSai_6f2yfu020cxOZWC4dAccd22S-1BbRC3R53a1hX0n-hKK8_2GXeUY6mx-u6L2nLMW-LGf24eq7qMJq7ungz9df151mB8zK7AOyOTTJpm-HLQRDP4rplZvqiJVk/s640/Ballot_0001.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I promise to fill this out within the next seven days and then mail it within the next seven days. [Devil, thy name is procrastination.]</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">For a bit, I was torn about voting. I was helping decide what person should take office in America. Because I live in Germany, my actions seemed a bit over reaching. After I got a kind tongue lashing from my friends in America and my German husband, I was back to energetically voting again.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Wish me luck.</span></div>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-75180325527735556052012-09-24T04:37:00.002-04:002012-09-25T10:32:23.376-04:00How I spent my summer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My trip to Ghana, like my first trip to Paris, was the result of a television.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Like many Americans, I had created a nonviolent hatred of the French. They are just so arrogant and evil. On my list of cities to visit before to die, Paris was on it but not near the top. But then Paula Deen changed that. I always felt an affinity for Paula. A few years ago, she went to Paris and was so overwhelmed by what she saw, ate and experienced that she cried. OK, if this city had this affect on my hero, I I knew I had to go.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I had a similar experience with Anthony Bourdain. The sour chef goes all over the world and complains and bitches and moans his way through life. Many love his deft hand creating putdowns that immediate put a picture in your mind. However, I find that the most boring part. It is extremely easy for man to create negative quips. I was impressed with his intrepid adventures. He ate what people who lived in a locale ate; he drank what they drank; he took part in what they took part in. I, the lover of comfort, saw his immersion and was impressed. There are a few places where he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. In 2007, Ghana was one of them. I kept that place in my back pocket until it fit my life. That time was this year.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last fall Asmus and I decided to make our big trip to Ghana this year. We expected some major changes in 2012 and this trip was going to be the last adventure. I was so excited. My resolve to be positive almost died during preparation. I love my Black brothers and sisters but around the world, we all have problems with clear instructions. We were trying to figure out how to get a visa but the website didn't give clear directions and I couldn't get a person on the telephone. Plus, we had to get immunizations that stretched out over about five weeks. Then we had to figure out what to bring because we needed clothes to accommodate the high heat and humidity and then to protect against malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Once all that was figured out, I relaxed. That occasion occurred about five days before we left.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iFcE2HLmE9enACLmtMGoE_Pyl2BX1BvvCCuaesIWEkGvvOgIWpjUx21iOlUlj9zKDQCp1KLZ-SYoiYk9XElbyvZjxCIeCxGGCt_6-Ot68GEf9nApaWhz1sg2NocNNCch4gatd1lQOn4/s1600/IMG_0776.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iFcE2HLmE9enACLmtMGoE_Pyl2BX1BvvCCuaesIWEkGvvOgIWpjUx21iOlUlj9zKDQCp1KLZ-SYoiYk9XElbyvZjxCIeCxGGCt_6-Ot68GEf9nApaWhz1sg2NocNNCch4gatd1lQOn4/s320/IMG_0776.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of the town of Ho from our hotel. We were living at cloud level.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was determined to enjoy Ghana for what it was and not what it wasn't. I brought wet wipes to deal with hole in the ground that served as toilets. I brought bottled water to drink and rinse my teeth with after brushing because people are supposed to avoid drinking it. I filled up my iPad with season 5 of Entourage to entertain myself at night. I was not staying at the Hotel Adlon or eating at Michelin-starred restaurants and that was cool.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What actually happened was that I was smacked in the face with poor people everywhere, bad roads or no roads, dilapidated homes, and other bad things. I was also surrounded by people working hard, villages using tourism to build a school, delicious local food, cool and economical [for a foreigner] fashion, and other great things. Those positives far outweighed the negatives.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Many people cannot gather the money to pay for their children to finish high school. Those that do have trouble finding jobs in a nation without a lot of industry. Instead of grumbling, they get to work. People are selling something wherever there is an empty space. It is impossible to find out where the official boundaries of Accra's Makola market are. Sellers even sell things on the street next to the sidewalk. There are people selling things right next to embassy gates, w</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ith the exception of the American embassy [everywhere around the earth, people harbor a strong hatred of America. To accommodate the latter, there are barriers around American diplomatic outposts]</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. Some artisans create and sell rattan furniture outside the Australian embassy. At night, prostitutes sell their wares on the grass outside the British embassy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In ten days in Ghana, one person begged us for money. We were sitting at sidewalk table at a chop bar [a casual bar] in the small town of Ho. A drunk man asked us for money. Before I could fully understand what was happening, someone from the restaurant fly out and pushed him into the street and out of sight. It was surreal.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was so struck by how positive everyone is. Ghana has borders created by the British. Various peoples called this area home for centuries. Now they live peacefully within the nation. One taxi driver told me, "Whether you are Ashante, Ga or whatever, we are all one. We are Ghana."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Unlike America, where there is a sense of unfairness that often evolves into anger, which often creates theft, murder and vandalism, Ghana has little crime. People just make due. We gave a woman who had a baby strapped to her back a ride. Until she bumped into us, she was prepared to walk about three miles in the sun. People cannot find jobs and the government does not have enough money to support them or train them or spur job growth, so people just start selling something. It can be annoying and a bit sad but I am so impressed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am not proud because I am not Ghanaian. I am not African. While all the people we met treated my like a cousin, no one treated me like a sister. When I walked through Accra's chaotic Makola market, my dress, backpack and hair required calls of "America! America!" People I spoke to were happy to see me and told how they really wanted to visit America one day [and they didn't think they ever could. Ghanaians must have a lot of money in the bank before the American government will bless them with a visa to visit.]. However, I was not one of them. That's cool with me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Everyone in Ghana was also nice to my white husband. We were prepared for them to yell out "Obruni!" [White person!] but no one did. Guidebooks noted this and our white tour guide at an Accra museum told us to be prepared. He was no big deal.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Even though I am not Ghanaian, it was nice to be one of crowd of brown faces. In Germany, I am one brown face in a crowd of white faces. Strangers remember me after I have walked by a place twice. It was relaxing not to stick out.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Meda ase, Ghana. [Thank you, Ghana.]</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0ZiggcfxWdAov6eHbYmydTu8kpV4zZLC_3PU8-z_gD1HNKyF5v_Y9GNV8K3NF8xax7QD7RMmNf3_YS5RJTSDeHX4BCTRTxPS0C22T8ifhH4ZKYb0oftAFHEk5pd5cGHg1R9bgH1iftU/s1600/IMG_4066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0ZiggcfxWdAov6eHbYmydTu8kpV4zZLC_3PU8-z_gD1HNKyF5v_Y9GNV8K3NF8xax7QD7RMmNf3_YS5RJTSDeHX4BCTRTxPS0C22T8ifhH4ZKYb0oftAFHEk5pd5cGHg1R9bgH1iftU/s640/IMG_4066.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An advertisement for a breakfast drink.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-89364087949295552222012-09-24T03:43:00.004-04:002012-09-24T03:43:53.314-04:00Akwaaba!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PYplQ_5wZ6yWjbgVYTrJVL2RvcEQcA646CFJH0lLmx0c-w9MH5AZzcXxEmMgAgKkdUEdVeC_whot2WpPB-kuaeUUqrR_dNEnRIg9Lfzgtgmxa1TNJMwlCFWKw_o52rR1OhLiobjqPZI/s1600/IMG_4087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I just came back from Ghana and here are a few shots.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Akwaaba [Welcome] to Ghana!</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxGLXOF9nlqlWnxprnAk3YHb6SWvPIMRktJDZkXcmeggPmGl0CTb9yAxr296QqiuemGSyhNKiBIeMUjEUVpFxJWbW1Oa9srzrhNuB1s2YNzuYrifYQcJBiCpCB1zfQwjoxYnOiq5dqxM/s1600/IMG_0854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxGLXOF9nlqlWnxprnAk3YHb6SWvPIMRktJDZkXcmeggPmGl0CTb9yAxr296QqiuemGSyhNKiBIeMUjEUVpFxJWbW1Oa9srzrhNuB1s2YNzuYrifYQcJBiCpCB1zfQwjoxYnOiq5dqxM/s400/IMG_0854.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fishing boats on the Atlantic, off the coast of the city of Elmina.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfb1uJc_7F82uKEOFvJStgcKA05kP98z4VTPb5R9w634YVL-qkaI8n_fRPhEVOqN-LHVkPazjxhAKKeg-Mxk3RqODfoH9EUkQvmGuQlthqwN5Ivva9lQvjyy3mLOQl5QRayScyDYZPao/s1600/IMG_0805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfb1uJc_7F82uKEOFvJStgcKA05kP98z4VTPb5R9w634YVL-qkaI8n_fRPhEVOqN-LHVkPazjxhAKKeg-Mxk3RqODfoH9EUkQvmGuQlthqwN5Ivva9lQvjyy3mLOQl5QRayScyDYZPao/s400/IMG_0805.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wooded area where friendly monkeys live.<br />The village of Tafi Atome supports itself from tourists who pay to frolic with the simians.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-N6iGyp4i1Jt6RwBnScoAofH47tOqFhT5Gm0-q3UHbb2DlecfWZT2iBjBI2l1_jbhzDf23bBkqost123sMyeY5zJME19NAUttTCO3o5EIJ5eW7qtGGAjIpVAhcXEtkzuoHXcirY-mbNw/s1600/IMG_0800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-N6iGyp4i1Jt6RwBnScoAofH47tOqFhT5Gm0-q3UHbb2DlecfWZT2iBjBI2l1_jbhzDf23bBkqost123sMyeY5zJME19NAUttTCO3o5EIJ5eW7qtGGAjIpVAhcXEtkzuoHXcirY-mbNw/s400/IMG_0800.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tourist like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ehi16SAMjgEVrVEj7AseJ6s7ztFwb9tzr5D9iKUmizRQE3lTV1yum8eJOpL0INU-j2e_f8cUr8qNl6yn7QekEwX1LbmxRmMyvam0XHqy-XE4_Q0aO5N9NPuCl2IgqXCwJn0AsVsBSuA/s1600/IMG_0770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ehi16SAMjgEVrVEj7AseJ6s7ztFwb9tzr5D9iKUmizRQE3lTV1yum8eJOpL0INU-j2e_f8cUr8qNl6yn7QekEwX1LbmxRmMyvam0XHqy-XE4_Q0aO5N9NPuCl2IgqXCwJn0AsVsBSuA/s400/IMG_0770.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An area of the Shai Hills Reserve.<br />Starting around the 1600s, the Se people lived in the hills, grasses and caves of this region.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpr8G7VZnBwMESfJHm4uyB3Ys5SlDaANNUtL_UOx1uV2GMn_Pzfc2i0hyphenhyphenWTuKjgCmq564mu5nMjCAzTueTUUgLAza6LEUaQIPYzrUhRbpLEYx35AfOA0Z7PsjjuzktQxXTSSOEUA2BsLY/s1600/IMG_0741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpr8G7VZnBwMESfJHm4uyB3Ys5SlDaANNUtL_UOx1uV2GMn_Pzfc2i0hyphenhyphenWTuKjgCmq564mu5nMjCAzTueTUUgLAza6LEUaQIPYzrUhRbpLEYx35AfOA0Z7PsjjuzktQxXTSSOEUA2BsLY/s400/IMG_0741.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accra Beach, which sits in the center of the capital. The unattractive and cost-free beach attracts a lot of Accra natives. The sandy land sits directly behind Independence Square (unofficially Black Star Square. The Ghanaian flag features a red horizontal stripe, a yellow horizontal stripe and a red horizontal stripe with a black star sitting in the middle of the yellow stripe. The Black Star is the "lodestar of African freedom."), the expansive parade grounds, where Ghanaians celebrate their independence each year and other important occasions in the nation's 55-year history.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU0u4N5sYIINkNGVT4xLyCtty6Jd4294uUVtrseUh5hCSav_EEWa6jqu_U9tONdvJISAf6sRTfX72mqecpNwTewkeQx90ZWzsnNHn2UD_4cyvMdJlKDdLi6nXosvD42c_dFlr8sosKbE/s1600/IMG_4048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNU0u4N5sYIINkNGVT4xLyCtty6Jd4294uUVtrseUh5hCSav_EEWa6jqu_U9tONdvJISAf6sRTfX72mqecpNwTewkeQx90ZWzsnNHn2UD_4cyvMdJlKDdLi6nXosvD42c_dFlr8sosKbE/s400/IMG_4048.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This government building is covered with the traditional colors of mourning, red and black, in honor of the July 24 death of its president, John Evans Atta Mills.<br />The capital was draped in red and black and signs honoring him were installed throughout the city.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUNK_sTkmgIXWRKBX9kFf0KJcRuYZaICBtezlKXPZL5NnTRAMiBPCsNuKycey8UBrSEB_TqjMn6FkHfT_aVqC7HrtveELbj0A85FYsRD2PNzzqM6BgQFJmtOAxKWBKFhAjfJDISwWBUE/s1600/IMG_4049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUNK_sTkmgIXWRKBX9kFf0KJcRuYZaICBtezlKXPZL5NnTRAMiBPCsNuKycey8UBrSEB_TqjMn6FkHfT_aVqC7HrtveELbj0A85FYsRD2PNzzqM6BgQFJmtOAxKWBKFhAjfJDISwWBUE/s400/IMG_4049.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghana is a nation in contrasts. The number of educated and middle class is growing. The outskirts of each city is alive with new home construction. At the same time, poverty is everywhere. There are not enough jobs for everyone. Amazingly, there is little crime. Instead of taking from people who have, people make their own way. Everywhere you go. EVERYWHERE you go people are selling something. There seems to be a clearly-defined division of labor. The women elegantly balance foodstuffs on their heads -- water, fried plantains, milk drinks, meat pies, etc. In their arms, men carry everything else -- phone cards, flash lights, miniature flags, toilet paper, etc. I felt immense anxiety for these entrepreneurs who often hawked their wares in traffic. They calmly snaked around cars with their offerings. while I almost had a heart attack.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJ2EcvU8zjQ_-0Rjz-rQAik5KYTgCXPEaHr39mNa_oPWWxqmMROS-gXebg6aHh1X9gBrhDOqPqFpISQNGNNelM-ttIWT1GdzlPrINQL8gD-g9qaBW2A1fxBnV1PL8X4yjAwyc-kamsow/s1600/IMG_4124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJ2EcvU8zjQ_-0Rjz-rQAik5KYTgCXPEaHr39mNa_oPWWxqmMROS-gXebg6aHh1X9gBrhDOqPqFpISQNGNNelM-ttIWT1GdzlPrINQL8gD-g9qaBW2A1fxBnV1PL8X4yjAwyc-kamsow/s400/IMG_4124.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></span><br />Sales on the sidewalk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-bottom: 6px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 6px; padding-top: 6px; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PYplQ_5wZ6yWjbgVYTrJVL2RvcEQcA646CFJH0lLmx0c-w9MH5AZzcXxEmMgAgKkdUEdVeC_whot2WpPB-kuaeUUqrR_dNEnRIg9Lfzgtgmxa1TNJMwlCFWKw_o52rR1OhLiobjqPZI/s1600/IMG_4087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PYplQ_5wZ6yWjbgVYTrJVL2RvcEQcA646CFJH0lLmx0c-w9MH5AZzcXxEmMgAgKkdUEdVeC_whot2WpPB-kuaeUUqrR_dNEnRIg9Lfzgtgmxa1TNJMwlCFWKw_o52rR1OhLiobjqPZI/s400/IMG_4087.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">Here is an elaborate stand on the side of the road. Because the commerce at these stands and on the street, there are few brick-and-mortar stores in Ghana. This stand sells welcome mats, brooms, rakes, mops, backpacks, speakers, televisions, computers and other random objects.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhfDC1BmAUlgsi6SP5xbwb11AwP-luH_PY_-w4XAY_u3Y_6ads29xSBKYVM_zaTkTNX-zgM4xtrzn1kkRBVzuLOaihUtpnZOgciFTrFYhl-tTQPVZoj-hj89jwwY0PX-mWPkiK2fp7yM/s1600/IMG_4109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbhfDC1BmAUlgsi6SP5xbwb11AwP-luH_PY_-w4XAY_u3Y_6ads29xSBKYVM_zaTkTNX-zgM4xtrzn1kkRBVzuLOaihUtpnZOgciFTrFYhl-tTQPVZoj-hj89jwwY0PX-mWPkiK2fp7yM/s400/IMG_4109.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Intellectual W.E.B. DuBois was invited to live in Ghana by Joseph Nkrumah, the first president Ghana. Tired of the struggle in the United States, DuBois moved in the former British officers house in Accra in 1961.<br />He was 93 years old.<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHhgczBxY6KpRuiZeuG0r-BVSztjnBOR_DlvqlRR-Pfs__9mnn1QCCt4pAxsecimbEskIz7o0l0wx48Xp4tjx-d0y6DkuvNcBmQ4oKqO7uYnLptfz3boAVAoXYE8X8mrZIUVJKKKKVIk/s1600/IMG_4160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHhgczBxY6KpRuiZeuG0r-BVSztjnBOR_DlvqlRR-Pfs__9mnn1QCCt4pAxsecimbEskIz7o0l0wx48Xp4tjx-d0y6DkuvNcBmQ4oKqO7uYnLptfz3boAVAoXYE8X8mrZIUVJKKKKVIk/s400/IMG_4160.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The grave of W.E.B. DuBois. It is located at the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">W. E. B. Du Bois Memorial Centre for Pan African Culture. His former home is the base of the center. His gazebo was turned into the mausoleum, which also hold the remains of his wife, Shirley.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnltHuO8Yrk6OCyE2i0g3WDXjpjDC0ZEcVTVkB1vN4nuHA5CMnqklPyIXumj-vDIvQLcIGdmAmzf_TYiPBXgTIWRf7OB4h4KbHOwT2zL9UyY6TJ1NGAQws3ox-Ux0cwzNsr1dDaraKiU/s1600/IMG_4296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnltHuO8Yrk6OCyE2i0g3WDXjpjDC0ZEcVTVkB1vN4nuHA5CMnqklPyIXumj-vDIvQLcIGdmAmzf_TYiPBXgTIWRf7OB4h4KbHOwT2zL9UyY6TJ1NGAQws3ox-Ux0cwzNsr1dDaraKiU/s400/IMG_4296.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of the Atlantic and dining tables for our hotel in Elmina.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-14325784757162456562012-08-08T04:46:00.002-04:002012-08-08T05:35:17.481-04:00My Country Tis of Thee<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It is weird for an American to experience the Olympics outside America.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Americans have spirit. Oh yes, we do. Not many nations have so much and are so ready to display it. I don't quite understand the logic but Germans are not supposed to be so proud to be Germans. It has something to do with World War II. Lately, this demand has given way a bit. During the month-long European Cup, there were some cars driving around with little German flags hanging on them. Nowhere near as many Sixers flags hung off cars in 2000 when the team had a good shot at winning the NBA Finals with Allen Iverson but more than there were during the 2010 World Cup games.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I live in northern Germany. I get television programming for Germany and Denmark. That means that the stars of the games are Danish and German (and for some reason, Usain Bolt. Germans love Usain Bolt. I guess everybody loves the World's Fastest Man.). I have seen little about Ryan Lochte, Sonya Ross-Richards, Serena Williams and Gabby Douglas.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LUn7hvLjCqkVrS1ZPw0KyPWrdAX5a0a6WV-8eNLwV65vWJGeBGWpivwo2ii9cEcLYVUhbMoUfnoQYrvY1F0oIamOpyNqvW-WHa9sif_mqz8piFe4Kq9amqJn1oShlBiFASsVaRFmBrA/s1600/1343829336_gymnasts-gold-467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4LUn7hvLjCqkVrS1ZPw0KyPWrdAX5a0a6WV-8eNLwV65vWJGeBGWpivwo2ii9cEcLYVUhbMoUfnoQYrvY1F0oIamOpyNqvW-WHa9sif_mqz8piFe4Kq9amqJn1oShlBiFASsVaRFmBrA/s640/1343829336_gymnasts-gold-467.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">U.S. Womens gymnastics team flash their gold medal.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">That also means that I see the games live. I can read the Internet without fear of hit spoilers. I know who has done something amazing as soon as it happens. I like the immediacy of the London Olympics.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This immediacy also means that I don't get the smooth packaging. Because their are events happening simultaneously, I am watching table tennis for 12 minutes, then swimming for eight, and then fencing for 10. It is very disconcerting.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But, it also means that I saw the <a href="http://www.zdf.de/ZDFmediathek#/event/1680922/olympia2012">opening ceremon</a>y as they were happening without the inane commentary and, more importantly, without commercial breaks. I read that Matt Lauer, Bob Costas and Meredith Vieira were not the most impartial hosts. I preferred to decide on my own that this opening ceremony was too British (I mean that the themes were not accessible for people who were not familiar with British culture. I understand the farm turning to smoke stacks but will someone sitting in the middle of nowhere in Angola or Uruguay. Will everyone in Detroit no what NHS stands for?) and not spectacular enough.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The hardest thing is discussing the Olympics when you are from a nation that, as of this upload, has more gold medals than the total medals of the nation you are in. Germany has earned few medals this Olympics and no one here is happy. I am psyched about America's high medal count. I was bursting out of my skin when Gabby Douglas won the all-around gymnastics gold. Ain't nobody here to share that with.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Despite these obstacles, I am still lovin' the Olympics. I'm OK loving alone.</span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-32083689464215475822012-07-23T09:34:00.005-04:002012-07-23T09:35:34.551-04:00Guns and Normalcy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="rg_hi uh_hi" data-height="166" data-width="303" height="219" id="rg_hi" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTClFUl6PkWsD1gzeF60auxXvT5dWcw6MzOQzCwuOyyFbqesugM" style="height: 166px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 303px;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A model of an AR-15 rifle, which was used to kill innocent moviegoers in Aurora, CO early July 20</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">A few days before the one-year anniversary of the attack in Norway, a crazed man opened fire on a movie theater in Colorado. Crazy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">It is insane that you cannot go to the movies without worrying about your life. It was also insane that teenagers could not go to Columbine high school without worrying about their lives in 1999. It was also insane that young adults could not go to Virginia Tech without worrying about their lives in 2007. It was also insane that a Congresswoman, a judge and several other people were shot at a supermarket in 2011.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Is this the new normal?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Of course, the reflexive reaction about these shootings is to put the focus on gun-control laws. In America, I lived in states with more restrictive gun laws than Colorado. I had no idea that you can walk into a store that sells fishing poles and buy automatic weapon and buy bullets over the Internet. Here in Germany, people are shocked by how easy it is for a normal
person to get military-grade weapons, large magazines and stockpiles of
ammunition.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I have had a few people tell me that they would love to visit the United States but they are afraid. They are afraid they are going to get shot because all Americans have guns. I try to assure them that the overwhelming majority of Americans have never seen a gun. The only people who walk around with guns are in a few places in the west and the south. My tourism push is a tough sell on a normal day but for a few weeks after these attacks, it is impossible.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I just hope that family and friends who see their friends and family members who are having a tough time will push them to get help. <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Health/VATech/cho-schizophrenic-evidence-suggests/story?id=3050483">Seung-Hui Cho</a>, <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/medical_examiner/2007/04/psychopath_depressive_schizophrenic.html">Eric Harris, Dylan Klebold</a> and <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/jared-lee-loughner-suspected-gabrielle-giffords-shooter-school/story?id=12575278#.UA1QT0Q-UgE" title="Jared Lee Loughner"> Jared Lee Loughner</a> displayed obvious signs of distress before they committed mass murders.</span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-54688893927991676992012-07-03T17:38:00.003-04:002012-07-03T17:53:11.325-04:00Good Times, Bad Times -- I've Seen Them All<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It was the worst of times. It was the best of times.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">By "times" I mean last Thursday. The undefeated German team played Italy in the semi-finals in the European Championships for soccer and lost. Men everywhere cried. At least, I think they did. I was dancing at a Madonna concert in Berlin. The best of times.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg298F8w0gpwm3T0XTfhk-mCZdkQMyA5IX4NTMreLQVGI0KVdwRtRryq_x-djt68AhI2JohapM7blhUTvJDO51hL0HiObEa2PAIXHWBJ8q5Xh93bgL8z4bbsEDVPhwv8gAHso9OxbC3u_4/s1600/subway+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg298F8w0gpwm3T0XTfhk-mCZdkQMyA5IX4NTMreLQVGI0KVdwRtRryq_x-djt68AhI2JohapM7blhUTvJDO51hL0HiObEa2PAIXHWBJ8q5Xh93bgL8z4bbsEDVPhwv8gAHso9OxbC3u_4/s400/subway+flowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The remnants of the leis boasting the colors of the German flag. Forgotten and stepped on after the loss to Italy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I lived in New York, I could not get a ticket to anything. I was fighting with eight million people for the chance to enjoy some music. At the beginning, I fought and lost. After a few losses, I gave up. I even started going to concerts in my hometown of Philadelphia. The lowered odds worked in my favor. I hated that I hated to leave the region to see a band or singer that I liked, so I gave up.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I learned that Madonna was going on tour, I was determined to get a ticket. Madonna is almost 54 years old. She takes her show on the road about every years. I really doubt that she will be dropping it like it's hot at 58, so I was resolute in my mission to see her while she was still lithe and flexible. I joined her fan club and woke up early. I got seats right above the stage in February and excitedly counted down the months to the MDNA tour pulled into Berlin.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The tickets were not cheap but they were not as expensive as you would think. I got my money's worth. Madonna may not be the world's best singer [I became a fan in the late 1990s. After the singing lessons and the adoption of dance beats and lyrics with a message.] but she is the best performer I have seen.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Madonna was my first stadium concert in Germany. I assumed that fans around the world are all the same. I was wrong. The audience booed Madonna. They didn't actually boo Madonna. They booed the lack of Madonna. The opening act was DJ <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnET4RKXx5k">Martin</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orc9nAiEG_8">Solveig</a>. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dAGaMjzMGPBXwLlJTAFtKcLAgOIavntS3cafN2djRBnWHHXXYpLuv4qxh9nAvPT1A6Qu1KSxVBEAGzjcAmrzNTcs2ZekJQ84KdNEs8kA4ozSdpc9h1UdTjQsZko6xcfHRzCsCnnjFnM/s1600/IMG_0694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dAGaMjzMGPBXwLlJTAFtKcLAgOIavntS3cafN2djRBnWHHXXYpLuv4qxh9nAvPT1A6Qu1KSxVBEAGzjcAmrzNTcs2ZekJQ84KdNEs8kA4ozSdpc9h1UdTjQsZko6xcfHRzCsCnnjFnM/s320/IMG_0694.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Martin Solveig on the Ones and Twos.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After he played an hour of his hits and the chart toppers and remixes of other groups, about 45 minutes painfully expired. The fans decided they had enough. At first, they started clapping when a recorded ended and there was no sign of the headliner. Eventually, when filler music ended, a crescendo of boos started.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There are many stereotypes about Germans that have no relation to fact. Being terminally punctual is not one of them. Most of the O2 World arena was filled at 7:45 for an event whose tickets said started at 8. I had never been to the stadium, so I wanted to arrive at 7:30 and walk around. See the sights, look over the souvenirs, eat dinner, etc. I planned to take my seat when Martin played a hit that I liked. My German husband needed to be in our seats before the lights went out, so we sat through the opening act. It was pleasant. I liked the music but there was little legroom. We were in the first row of the second level. I was expecting boogie room. I was squeezed in but I was not dead.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Oddly, everyone, except for people surrounding the stage, was seated.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWu-VoSTgRCfsbE_XSrOwCRSOJTlqvYf4Nm-PumJqVduYbE6Fc-YYNGPT-g-zMQ5KPHJpKR06UCNNt20BqdZ7R97EZPwAe-7UEeOwL2JgacNuWVEaQskFGVEqi9aLlFdUR_y_56z7Ez8/s1600/IMG_0698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWu-VoSTgRCfsbE_XSrOwCRSOJTlqvYf4Nm-PumJqVduYbE6Fc-YYNGPT-g-zMQ5KPHJpKR06UCNNt20BqdZ7R97EZPwAe-7UEeOwL2JgacNuWVEaQskFGVEqi9aLlFdUR_y_56z7Ez8/s640/IMG_0698.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is normal in Europe for people to stand in front of a stage. I have never been a fan of standing for three hours, so I bought a ticket with a seat. This is a shot of happier times.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When Martin raised his hands above his head and directed the crowd to clap, there was some motion by the crowd. Other than that, people watched the stage or the screen, as if it were the evening news.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBEFNpxM7ru8CvBhNGOqvSPKKRvH1JspKpv-cC0lYuVJYK3E4xsawZQBSRmzAX74nCph9E1o_Z-40AbYdfIrxYcK2_CLbnhVL4_v125r0qkY8WNZeXRvum-gwGy4FbjgZXLbKFGuFHUE/s1600/IMG_0700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBEFNpxM7ru8CvBhNGOqvSPKKRvH1JspKpv-cC0lYuVJYK3E4xsawZQBSRmzAX74nCph9E1o_Z-40AbYdfIrxYcK2_CLbnhVL4_v125r0qkY8WNZeXRvum-gwGy4FbjgZXLbKFGuFHUE/s320/IMG_0700.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martin gets the crowd clapping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I assumed this would change when Madonna finally took the stage. I was wrong. On my quadrant, one woman, three men and I were the only people on our feet during the entire concert. When the show started, I was on my feet alone. I waited a song to see if others would join me. When they didn't, I started crafting an argument for someone who asked me sit down.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"No."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I'm sorry but no."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I bought a ticket to a concert. It is normal to dance at a concert. I have the right to dance at a concert. Therefore, I will not sit down."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I really wasn't sure which way to go. Luckily, no one asked me to sit down.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When one of Madonna's sang one of her hits from the 80s and 90s, there were whistles and screams. The newer music was not as welcome. I loved it all.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Near the end of the well-choreographed and well-timed show, a few people left. When the show ended, there were no screams of <i>Zugabe!</i> [The German equivalent of <i>Encore</i>, which is the French equivalent of "again."] People just departed. After two minutes after Madonna's left the stage, the applause stopped and the stadium started clearing out. I am used to the post-show praise and worship session with my fellow concertgoers. I had to be satisfied to talk to my husband, who was also ready to jet. I was tired and needed a bit of sitting.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fortunately, Madonna runs a tight ship. There were no encores to be had. MDNA consisted of video art, platforms that lowered and raised, holes in the floor that opened at precise times, slack lines, people hanging from trapezes, and instruments that appeared and disappeared at specific times. There was no room for spontaneity. The show started at 10:15 and ended at 11:45. In Madonna's defense, she gave 90 jam-packed minutes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There were skits, a "trip" to a club in South Africa, drum majors playing while hanging from the ceiling, stand-alone dance performances, and slack lining.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SQhZZaPNSuD8ut1fqfEXSjpbAwPkcXKKZ_M7h-PCA1VuNkMdLP9bujGUarBE7J0oLN-VgHHBGAeKbdcTcsxUiJTG_xZqEyzx5ls4YyGEunKZg_F3CwHNjTLY3tbO1XNvz2gX2wMBng8/s1600/IMG_0705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SQhZZaPNSuD8ut1fqfEXSjpbAwPkcXKKZ_M7h-PCA1VuNkMdLP9bujGUarBE7J0oLN-VgHHBGAeKbdcTcsxUiJTG_xZqEyzx5ls4YyGEunKZg_F3CwHNjTLY3tbO1XNvz2gX2wMBng8/s640/IMG_0705.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a bad shot of Madonna doing a cheerleader remix of Open Your Heart. With the changing lights, it was hard to get good shots. I was more into watching to photographing. The blip in the middle of the front row is Madonna.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwBkVzpFYA4IIimz_kkd2pfFynIZFTGyHWyB5oMWMAjSvKYvvkWCQxKqdI1OqM7HkHoRXRTpRT3nV9r3ohbCVZGBIRlwbEikpIYIRdvxim6RnM2GV0RmQQLa_TFec8A4mOHrMY7CBJ0I/s1600/IMG_0708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwBkVzpFYA4IIimz_kkd2pfFynIZFTGyHWyB5oMWMAjSvKYvvkWCQxKqdI1OqM7HkHoRXRTpRT3nV9r3ohbCVZGBIRlwbEikpIYIRdvxim6RnM2GV0RmQQLa_TFec8A4mOHrMY7CBJ0I/s640/IMG_0708.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The drummers punctuate Open Your Heart from above.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I had felt a little bad keeping my German husband from watching </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>die Deutsche Mannschaft </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">play Italy in the European Championship but then they lost, so I felt better. Plus, he had a good time (He only recognized one song, a hymn-like Like a Prayer. How are we not divorced yet?).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Between Martin Solveig, I got a hot dog. The concessions workers were forlorn. The team was down 0 -2. I wanted to hug them. When there is nothing else to do, I will support the Team but I had to rest up before it was time to dance.</span>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-68821242500273538302012-06-26T10:26:00.002-04:002012-06-26T10:26:21.563-04:00I can now die happy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I have eternity!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">One of the best parts of Kiel Week is John's New York Burger Box. Last year, they were located at the top of my street. I passed them about 12 times a day and I fell in love. They got me. They understood my sense of humor and we moved together in harmony.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The weeks before Kiel Week, I became excited by the idea of seeing John, Sophie, Aaron and Luca again. I was shocked when an ice cream vendor opened up in John's place. I was angry. Where were my friends?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A co-worker reported John's location and I was happy and a bit sad. I assumed John and Co. were not coming this year, so I was happy they were back. I was a bit upset that the box was at the waterfront about a mile and a half away. I could not bump into them. I needed to have time and energy to see them. I found both last Tuesday. Well, worth the trip.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The box was bigger and the options increased. Unfortunately, the chicken wings that were on the menu were gone. In their place were bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches, daily burger specials, the renowned Czech beer, Budweiser [BOOD-wyzer], and bottles of Brooklyn Pale Ale and Brooklyn Lager. Yes, tastes of America in the middle of northern Germany.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I got cheers and screams, discounted burgers and free beers. I made the trek to John's New York Burger Box Tuesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. If it had been closer, I would have gone more often.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I don't know how it happens but people from America, Italy, England and Germany come together and work crazy hard without fighting and have a bold fun that infects reserved passersby. Maybe it's the loud rap and pop music or the beer. Whatever.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfPWbT8gspB5ItR0i9VrYpUaaHCUNr6l8ruFviZ8dxRhiMnwgdB3B6n_ITsCOTyhMiISz-F88HeGornaH7LL0LtTW5zaS6w7aqsX65WAtyg_QujbE3roZxlVxPasiXP3KQJXFGdi3FFc/s1600/candid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmfPWbT8gspB5ItR0i9VrYpUaaHCUNr6l8ruFviZ8dxRhiMnwgdB3B6n_ITsCOTyhMiISz-F88HeGornaH7LL0LtTW5zaS6w7aqsX65WAtyg_QujbE3roZxlVxPasiXP3KQJXFGdi3FFc/s640/candid.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luca, John [baseball cap peeks out], Sophie and Katelyn seconds after Sophie pumped up Fergie's London Bridge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I went at the end of the last day, around 10 p.m. I was sorry I did that when I discovered an honor -- the Monica Burger. It was a bacon cheeseburger. The burger I created on Tuesday and pushed on the German guests behind me. I was so happy that I didn't get as upset as I normally would when all the women I worked with showed up together.</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpb8fJ1L_-f2cbiltgVhuXhHrGB7h79_XIngqN2pupY-m4kJVHwhOMfR-ikiU7nGL2hTkrEqyvjGjtZD_jz5V8QfzGdoXVTrFVIH8fGo4-Dcn37EOKrTJTK6HPbIblDrI4w8vtluqUe0U/s1600/IMG_0676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpb8fJ1L_-f2cbiltgVhuXhHrGB7h79_XIngqN2pupY-m4kJVHwhOMfR-ikiU7nGL2hTkrEqyvjGjtZD_jz5V8QfzGdoXVTrFVIH8fGo4-Dcn37EOKrTJTK6HPbIblDrI4w8vtluqUe0U/s640/IMG_0676.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is an actual quote from me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Because of the Monica Burger, I have a legacy. My name will live on forever.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-57980564497043372272012-06-26T09:50:00.002-04:002012-06-26T09:50:13.479-04:00See ya next year, Kiel Week!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Another successful Kiel Week has just wrapped up.</span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_S2v3Gw9104f3w80v0FQ2PJ6TmzE0T7vwLycG9NuyXaMlI7wZ6zhsAbtQ3cj1N36lVt6YenZQg2vkIeF4WckelBf48vTEkSj9nnoVxsMxpf9tCapoG-wOonkPwby9xPxJscK8YCLadk/s1600/IMG_0671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_S2v3Gw9104f3w80v0FQ2PJ6TmzE0T7vwLycG9NuyXaMlI7wZ6zhsAbtQ3cj1N36lVt6YenZQg2vkIeF4WckelBf48vTEkSj9nnoVxsMxpf9tCapoG-wOonkPwby9xPxJscK8YCLadk/s640/IMG_0671.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A performer makes his wobbly way across a 100 foot slack line. People paid 1 euro to throw a water balloon at him. Until I realized he was only acting like he was in a precarious state, I was mad at the hurlers and very stressed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For some reason, the Kiel Tourism board describes Kiel Week as one of the world's largest regattas. I don't know one person who travels to Kiel for the boats. Of course, I don't know anyone who sails but I know a lot of people who enjoy music, food, dance and theater from around the world and flock to Kiel each year at the end of June.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiM4KXI4zvWpRICY4ExGhPxlG404FPDRnnBLImU17qSvBQo7KzZm31yEI33rVT64efz83HRlJmuOS27e8qRarKcq2AMm1e1U3CgEbxenP4Z2gqxL4pqdVHp2_7bY4AykI85Xt1I0CVP-s/s1600/IMG_0662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiM4KXI4zvWpRICY4ExGhPxlG404FPDRnnBLImU17qSvBQo7KzZm31yEI33rVT64efz83HRlJmuOS27e8qRarKcq2AMm1e1U3CgEbxenP4Z2gqxL4pqdVHp2_7bY4AykI85Xt1I0CVP-s/s640/IMG_0662.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A performer on break from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2qd34xexRI">German slap dancing</a>. I was told these calf warmers make a difference.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Over ten days, three million people flocked to the the city that normally holds 270,000. People outside and inside German come to celebrate Kiel Week. Everyone in town is in a great mood.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It is like Christmas to me. There is a mental countdown to the event, then excitement during its observance, and then a feeling of sadness when it ends and you think of the fun that just ended. I have not visited Oktoberfest. I was scared away from it by native Germans. It is a few weeks of drinking very over-priced beer in extremely-crowded conditions. I don't need to pay a lot of money and travel for hours to drink beer. Cologne's Carneval attracts thousands of Germans. I am not sure why it is cool but Oktoberfest. Perhaps it is the costumes and beer prices that do not rise. I went to Carneval once and I was not impressed. It was a lot of standing in a costume and drinking beer. But Kiel Week is more than beer drinking.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The insanity of Kiel Week was heightened by its coincidence with the European Championship for soccer. Asmus and I live in the center of town. When Germany beat Greece last Sunday, we hit the Alter Markt, a public square at the top of our street, and dancing the night away with DJ Gary and an overflow crowd. It was a sea of white shirts emblazoned with <i>schwarz, rot und gold </i>-- black, red and gold, the colors of the German flag.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">All that partying happened, despite the constant rain. During the first Friday, I sat in the rain and sipped wine from vendors representing Argentina, Spain and France. Asmus stuck to beer from "Denmark," better known as Carlsberg beer, and Cubra libre from "Mexico". The rain and the drinks followed dinner from France. During cocktails, Bob Geldolf played his and the Boomtown Rats' hits on a stage a few hundred feet away.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tw1D6IokShoOiXrEgsR4mmDapzcZLW0tD9bQ9uvgKMUCpAnSn_f_CLiwqBhwK-IX9wd7QK8F9Up5EHvK-h4rJKFHkjDuxeWydlJiylj4MSEIAIgf5yYezwGS_OTecjCaQP-xCMF4tEg/s1600/Foto-14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tw1D6IokShoOiXrEgsR4mmDapzcZLW0tD9bQ9uvgKMUCpAnSn_f_CLiwqBhwK-IX9wd7QK8F9Up5EHvK-h4rJKFHkjDuxeWydlJiylj4MSEIAIgf5yYezwGS_OTecjCaQP-xCMF4tEg/s640/Foto-14.JPG" width="476" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MvEN1mlc9ZWXbzS7un8mz2VsQkSLLn7jFhbKeF9Pkwkgv0SHYAg8pFF20EHQ7nASkgyFZC802hdTedMQgBbH0QAxeq5K1ZEG1YERCkLOWl7wESAn1jPUKS3Mjo7CYLhrXtYSo4JZFd8/s1600/Foto-15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MvEN1mlc9ZWXbzS7un8mz2VsQkSLLn7jFhbKeF9Pkwkgv0SHYAg8pFF20EHQ7nASkgyFZC802hdTedMQgBbH0QAxeq5K1ZEG1YERCkLOWl7wESAn1jPUKS3Mjo7CYLhrXtYSo4JZFd8/s640/Foto-15.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It is weird not to constantly having something available to do. For ten days, Kiel is like New York. Now it is back to being a nice northern German town, where everything shuts down at 7 and nothing is open on Sunday.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65WQ9BDNtJs5FZJFd6WW8irSzY9SAXdphWKj84PsUbwniVFO1QHdPzf9HMoeBHrXUPmplEfbDvUmVWZIEIiF7AnVo1E_Obzsbi1G0gMaVu6k6bMJDtXANHimksG-VsXpwX_Q0aAEmG1A/s1600/IMG_0673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65WQ9BDNtJs5FZJFd6WW8irSzY9SAXdphWKj84PsUbwniVFO1QHdPzf9HMoeBHrXUPmplEfbDvUmVWZIEIiF7AnVo1E_Obzsbi1G0gMaVu6k6bMJDtXANHimksG-VsXpwX_Q0aAEmG1A/s640/IMG_0673.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crowd on the last night of Kiel Week at the waterfront. Surprise, surprise, there are storm clouds. The rain stopped right before the closing night fireworks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4614682106437655788.post-15489688875334452432012-06-21T05:23:00.005-04:002012-07-03T17:39:16.570-04:00Flower Power<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I lived in New York for eight years. Life was interesting but life was expensive. However, there were pockets of cheapness. I got my laundry washed, dried and folded for the same price as if I did it myself -- 50 cents a pound. Plus, I didn't have to sit in a dark, dank laundramat on a Saturday.</span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Of course, almost everything is cheaper in Germany. One of the best deals is flowers. You can get a bouquet of roses for 8 euros. The love of nature and the low prices of flowers have made florists as common as corner stores. Since moving here, I have fallen in love in peonies. This year, I decided to maintain a constant presence of <i>pfingtsten rosen. </i>I can get a bunch for 5.90 and I am happy.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">They are so beautiful.</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-c71NOtwczNG0o2TLTSxTzAie_yR42pWdy1NkjGjKfF0Ws1aRpYAnGJtLo8xniTeE5C6YDOfinQhfnXPUumL9qOFyIG-gZ_rVuK3TA9XLGBpMTI1erJcuWTEWyVkVnNIAJVqJsUFSmDg/s1600/Foto-11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-c71NOtwczNG0o2TLTSxTzAie_yR42pWdy1NkjGjKfF0Ws1aRpYAnGJtLo8xniTeE5C6YDOfinQhfnXPUumL9qOFyIG-gZ_rVuK3TA9XLGBpMTI1erJcuWTEWyVkVnNIAJVqJsUFSmDg/s640/Foto-11.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTN-D-68-r10y0X0dlZIycC8qdHxqK3GeCmENt5y8yGYQUXHKsTcyQJPcyubhRfFT6qjAzUACYgQAvL0GRgnvbHEzfSk1gnhdPcj7j6_-fDOr1cnkDA4leocscJhud3wl9lgJPLnDYqZU/s1600/Foto-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTN-D-68-r10y0X0dlZIycC8qdHxqK3GeCmENt5y8yGYQUXHKsTcyQJPcyubhRfFT6qjAzUACYgQAvL0GRgnvbHEzfSk1gnhdPcj7j6_-fDOr1cnkDA4leocscJhud3wl9lgJPLnDYqZU/s640/Foto-12.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>MJM248http://www.blogger.com/profile/04966102677315128339noreply@blogger.com0